Through The Bitter Battle
by CelticWarriorMoon
Summary: SamusXMarth ficlet. When Marth is diagnosed with a form of cancer, he's not sure how he'll be able to cope. Luckily, he has Samus to help him through it all. Read and review, even if it's depressing. :P Rated T, just to be safe.


"Marth? Can I come in?"

There's a pause, before I hear a muffled grunt that only vaguely resembles a "yes", in reply. I take this as my cue to open the door to his room, and enter.

Mentally, even though I should probably be used to it by now, I steel myself not to recoil in shock upon entering, and laying eyes on the sorry sight that is the royal heir of Altea.

Or, what used to be would be more accurate...

 _"Whatever it is, Marth dear, I'm sure it'll be alright."_

 _I reach for his hand, and he grips it tightly, apprehensively awaiting the results of the scan. I'm scared too, perhaps more than he is, but I try not to make him more worried._

 _I look into the deep, blue eyes of the Altean prince, and I see a distinct hint of worry reflected in them._

 _There's a pause, before I hear him say to me, sounding more than a little anxious as he does, "I hope so, Sam."_

 _"I do too."_

 _I gently run my finger back and forth along the back of Marth's gloved hand, in an effort to keep him calm, before I hear Dr. Mario re-enter the room._

 _I look up. By the expression on his face, I instantly know it's serious._

 _Marth's hand closes even tighter around my own, as I feel my heart rate worriedly increase. I hear him swallow._

 _I take a deep breath, as Dr. Mario informs me of the results._

 _"The results of the scan have come through, Marth. It's definitely a form of cancer."_

 _I swallow. I know I probably shouldn't - it would probably have made the situation worse - but I glance over at Marth, and I see that he looks visibly stricken at the diagnosis. He appears stunned for a few seconds, and then he ducks his head down low, only barely trying to blink away the tears._

 _I take his hand in my other, so that I'm holding it in both of mine._

 _"What happens now?" I hear him whisper, slightly choked, as if he doesn't expect an answer. Maybe he doesn't._

 _Dr. Mario answers his question, nonetheless._

 _"Don't worry. We caught it early, so with careful treatment, you'll be healthy in no time. We'll make sure to schedule an operation to remove the tumour as soon as possible, after which you may need a few chemotherapy treatments, but I don't think it's very dangerous. You have a high chance of survival."_

 _After a few more words with both of us, including more information on what will happen now that we know what's wrong, we're both allowed to leave the surgery._

 _Neither of us says a word for what seems like eternity, before I hear Marth whisper, in a small voice, "I'm scared..."_

...Slowly, I step into Marth's room, and gently close the door behind me. I take a deep breath, and walk over to his bed, where he has been spending a lot of time recently. Those treatments for the cancer may be doing his recovery the world of good, but they also leave him horribly drained, and wanting nothing more than to be left alone to sleep.

"Marth."

Slowly, the figure wrapped in the duvet turns to face me. It's not the first time I've seen the gaunt, shattered-looking face and lack of hair, but the sight still arouses a tangible sense of pity deep in my heart every time I lay eyes on him.

"Samus?" Marth says, in a small voice.

"Yes, dear, it's me," I reply, in my best attempt at a soothing voice. "I'm here."

I see a faint smile appear on Marth's face, and he looks visibly comforted by my presence.

"I'm glad," he says, quietly, after a few moments of silence.

I crouch down beside the bed so that I'm at Marth's eye level, and gently run my hand over his smooth head. It feels nothing like the soft, thick, luxuriant blue hair I'm used to, although that isn't to say that it was only the treatments themselves to blame for that. When Marth first noticed that his hair was falling out, rather than having to go through the gradual, uneven process of losing it fully, he asked me, reluctantly, to just get the whole thing over with and shave it off. Also somewhat reluctant, I obliged.

He cried the whole time. It must have been so awful for him. Who knew what he was really feeling inside?

"How are you feeling?" I ask, after a brief pause.

The look of comfort on Marth's face wanes slightly, as he replies, "Better now that you're here, but still not quite myself yet."

I move my hand to his face, and start to lightly stroke the side of it.

"Don't worry, Marth," I say quietly. "It's only for a few more weeks. After that, you'll be able to recover. You'll be more like your usual self again."

"And," I add, "your hair will start growing back, and you'll be able to look your best again."

Marth lets out a small laugh at my last statement. Perhaps losing his hair - the most valuable asset to his physical appearance, I'm sure - is what he hated the most about his situation, after all.

"Good," he says in reply. "That wig really didn't do my true appearance justice."

I glance at the medium-length, dark blue wig hanging on the post of the bed, and think about Marth's last statement. He's right, I think. It's not one hundred percent accurate to how he really looks. It's better than nothing, certainly, but even with it on, he still doesn't look like the handsome prince with whom I first fell in love.

"No, it didn't," I agree.

There's again a few moments of silence between us, before I ask Marth, "Is there anything I can do for you, my dear prince?"

He thinks about this for a moment, before answering, "Not at the moment, thank you. Although it would be nice if you stayed with me for another little while."

I smile at the prince, before I say, "Alright, if that's what you'd like, my dear."

I continue softly stroking Marth's face, as we remain silent, taking in each other's company. He closes his eyes, and I can't help but notice how peaceful he looks, despite the evident tiredness present on his face. The side effects of his treatments may be cruel, to say the least, but if I know anything about him, I know that he'll pull through like the brave man he is.

I pause for a moment, and as I do, Marth pulls his hand out from under the duvet, and reaches for mine. With my free hand, I take it. His pale skin is warm to the touch.

A half-hour or so passes by in silence, with me just gently tracing the outline of Marth's still-pretty face, my other hand in his, and I can see by the steady rise and fall of his chest that he's becoming more and more relaxed. I stop, and go to leave, as it seems he's on the verge of sleep, but as I get up, I bend over and gently plant a kiss on his forehead.

"Take it easy," I whisper to the resting prince. "Just try and get some sleep."

I pause.

"I love you, Marth," I say quietly.

I turn around and start walking over to the door. Just before I open it, though, I glance back at Marth's bed. I can see that he's turned over, so that he's no longer facing me, but it also looks like he's managed to fall asleep.

 _That must have been just how tired he was - the short space of half an hour was all it took for him to fall asleep..._

I smile. In spite of his current situation, he looks at peace.

"Sleep well," I say quietly, before I slowly open the door and step through, closing it quietly behind me.


End file.
